Summary: The Third’s bad-boy seems to have had his eye on you for a while… and when you finally agree to hang out with him, he hopes to persuade you in his favor.
SR's Note: My first Carrion Swift piece (yay)! I don’t think you guys understand the love I have for Quicksilver… and with Brimstone coming out so soon, I’m loosing my mind!
Tags: @mellowmusings @rcarbo1 @lilah-asteria @paintedbyshadows @bookofriverr @lreadsstuff @woollybread786 @kitsunetori @velarisdusk @cherry-hotline @invisiblepixies @whyucloudingmymind @nctsawrus (inbox me or comment if you'd like to be added!)
The air was hot and smelled of the city as Carrion Swift walked you home that evening. Though the year had neared it's late-October mark, Zilvaren would never cool its temperatures -- especially in the Third.
Carrion continued on, talking about his most recent escapades with another young man he'd met in the bar. As the two of you walked, you could barely focus on his words. The constant reminder that you were fraternizing with the enemy had you on edge.
"Smoke?" He asked suddenly, extending a roll to you. Usually you'd decline, but under the circumstances... you took it eagerly. He pulled a matchbox from one of his pants pockets, removing and striking one until it caught flame. When you glanced up at his face again, you saw he had his own balanced between two lips.
Two, pillowsoft looking lips, at that.
He reached over, holding the match to the end of your stick before lighting his own. Gentleman, you thought, though the word didn't quite feel right to describe the conniving, theiving redhead beside you. Carrion Swift was many things, but anything reselbling a compliment would be far too generous to grant him.
"Why are you staring like that?" He asked, chuckling as he inhaled a drag. You instantly looked forward, cheeks burning with the realization.
"I wasn't." You lied, filling your lungs with smoke yourself. The delicious bite of it in your chest reminded you how real this was, the reality of what you were doing.
Carrion wasn't an idiot; he knew who was who and what was what around the Third. After a moment of silence, he introduced a topic you wished he wouldn't have.
"So -- you still getting on with that one guy? Hayden, is it?"
You stilled, trying to figure out a way to answer that wouldn't get anyone into trouble.
"I... am," you said slowly, continuing to walk. "And, I'd say we're a bit past simply 'getting on' by now."
Carion chuckled, a sly smile spreading before he inhaled from his roll once more.
"I didn't know -- what I heard about last night might suggest otherwise."
Your cheeks blazed. You couldn't be surprised that word of you and your boyfriend's fight had spread already -- any news around here tended to catch on like wildfire. What you were surprised by was why Carrion was so interested in it.
"What's it matter to you, anyways?" You inquired, following him as he turned down a sidestreet. The fight last night was brutal, there was no question in that; it was so bad, you'd threatened Hayden if he so much as approached your home tonight. The squabble wasn't something you'd leave him over, no; but it sure did piss you off.
Carrion chuckled darkly, the sound like a low melody under the blanket of night. You slowed your steps, realizing he'd stopped too. He'd gotten you all the way home, as promised.
"I just think anyone who'd willingly disagree with someone as beautiful as you is a damned fool."
That had your eyes widening. You yanked the smoke stick from your mouth, gazing up at him in the moonlight.
"Alright, now I know something's up. What's this all about, anyway?"
He chuckled again, in that dark, elegant tone. His face illuminated beautifully in the light from the moon, every freckle on his nose noticeable to count. He peered down at you, his gaze hazy as he'd already smoked half his roll.
"I have a proposition for you."
✧･ﾟ: *
"Carrion! Fuck!"
His large hand cupped over your mouth as you cried out, the feel of his thick cock stretching you in ways you hadn't been before.
"Shhh," he insisted, not faltering in the brutal pace he set as he rammed his cock deeper into you. Back straining against the mattress, you squirmed beneath him -- never feeling so dirty, yet so alive all at once.
When he took his hand away, he placed it on the opposite side of your head, giving him leverage as he adjusted his angle. You groaned lowly as he fucked you, his gaze focusing on the way your bare breasts bounced beneath him.
"Been waiting so long for this, you have no idea," he grumbled, before leaning down to grant you a chaste kiss. You sighed, relishing in the feel of him; though your mind was elsewhere. What would Hayden to, if he dared to come home and find his girlfriend fucking his long-time enemy?
"Get that bastard out of that pretty little head of yours," Carrion requested, one hand reaching to gently probe at your clit. Your jaw fell open in shock as heat flooded your core, your walls clenching around his member. "He doesn't deserve to be there."
You meweled as he toyed with you, slowing down and speeding up to draw out your prolonged orgasm. He halted suddenly, instead opting to flip you over and tug your ass into the air.
All you felt was a single, harsh smack before he was inside you again.
"You like that? Huh?" He taunted, leaning overtop you to speak close to your ear. The mattress scooted with every thrust below you, causing the floorboards to creek. You'd only pray your neighbors wouldn't hear what was happening on the other side of the paper-thin walls; your screaming and his grunting being evidence enough.
You groaned as his hips snapped against your ass, creating a deliciously wet sound with every drive. His hand fisted your hair, tugging you up for your back to press against his muscled chest.
"Say it, Y/N -- say you like the way I'm fucking you."
You resisted, only to be met with a light tug in your hair. You winced.
"SAY it-"
"Gods, I love the way you fuck me, Carrion!" You moaned, and he chuckled darkly. His thrusts began to slow, his cock twitching as it rubbed inside of you.
"You love it, huh?" He taunted, breathless as his lips caressed the shell of your ear. "Love it enough to leave that boyfriend of yours?"
You grunted, resisting the urge to tell him to forget it. However, every word out of his mouth had you clenching tighter and tighter around him.
"I think you want him to find you like this," he purred. "You get off on the possibility that he could walk in here, any minute, and see you all fucked out on his enemy's cock."
You squeaked as your orgasm built within, ready to burst at any second. He trust in hard, once, twice, three times...
"FUCK! Carrion..."
He came with a shout, ripping his cock from you as he dropped you back onto your hands and knees. Cum splattered across your ass, shooting as far as your shoulderblades as he released all over you. You panted, pussy clenching as you worked through your own high -- the whole thing only made you hotter, in his eyes.
Once you'd regained control of your breathing, you turned to find Carrion cleaning himself with an old towel near the foot of your mattress. He'd shaken off the hay from it before wiping away at the mess he made -- and then, wiping away at you. The feeling was so foreign, so odd that it tugged at your heartstrings a little. Hayden had never given you such attention as this, made you cum as hard as Carrion just had; and certainly, never took the time to ensure you were properly cared for after.
When he did rise from the mattress, it was in search of his discarded clothes. You turned, tugging the old sheet used as a blanket over you in hopes of concealment -- as if the devilishly handsome male hadn't just seen you completely bare before him.
Carrion dressed quickly, running a hand through his mussed hair after securing his belt through his trousers once more. You watched, wide-eyed from the mattress as he winked at you before heading for the door.
"Wait," you called, not totally sure of what was about to come out of your mouth. Carrion turned, looking to you with yet another sly smile.
"What, you gonna ask me to stay?" He said, the teasing lilt ever-present in his voice. You sighed, looking down as you weren't sure if you actually did want him to.
"I... I'll consider it," you said, looking up at him. "Your offer."
He grinned at this, sliding himself between the door and the frame.
"Good. The sooner you realize you should leave that dimwit, the better."
Summary: Reader is Kingfisher's twin sister and very much in love with Carrion Swift. In the hopes to find a cure for Everlayne, she travels to Ballard with Carrion.
Warnings: none
Word Count: 5k
The streets of Cahlish were rainy and muddy as you carried a wicker basket around your arm, way too heavy for you, but you had been so eager when Iseabail had asked you to help, you would have carried ten males through the entirety of Yvelia to work at her side. The witch who had come to help wake Everlayne from her neverending coma was the Balquhidder Clan Heir and you were fascinated by her. Healing had always been a passion of yours. Where your twin brother Kingfisher was wreaking havoc, you enjoyed picking up the pieces and putting them back together. Nobody ever guessed that you were as much as related, let alone that you’d shared your mothers womb. And while Te léna was an extraordinary healer and one of your greatest friends, learning from an actual witch, gaining knowledge from her methods– it filled you with utter excitement. Soaked to the bone, you entered Fisher and Saeris’s home where Everlayne occupied a guest room. The first thing you eyed though was the red head of hair at the kitchen table. Carrion Swift. You swallowed hard. It had become close to unbearable for you to ignore your feelings towards the future King of Yvelia. Fisher would most certainly behead him if he knew, throne be damned. And while there had been moments in which you’d almost told him, the courage to do so always fated quickly. He was a shameless flirt and most nights, he was picking up any female that wasn’t you to warm his bed. “Morning.” You mumbled with a smile and placed the basket on the wooden table, right in front of Carrion.
He leaned in to get a better look at the contents of your basket. It was full with all kinds of herbs and flowers all bundled up by strings. “I think the healer’s been using you as her assistant.”
“She’s not a healer, she’s a witch. And I don't mind being her assistant as long as she lets me take notes.” One by one, you carefully unpacked the bundles you’d collected all morning.
“So long as the assistant to the witch doesn’t forget to take care of herself.” Carrion retorted, looking you over, trying to hide the way concern furrowed his brows. “You look like hell.”
“Wow, thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” He smirked, eyes glinting with amusement. He rested an elbow on the table, placing his chin in his palm, eyeing you again, “Have you eaten breakfast yet?”
Unpacking the bundles or herbs one by one, you looked at him. Was he worried about you? No, he couldn’t be. Carrion didn’t care for you the way you did for him. At least that was what you kept telling yourself. “Not yet.”
“Neither have I,” He declared, standing up from his chair. “Come on, let’s take a break from whatever it is you’re doing. You’re no use to the witch dead of starvation.”
“But the herbs–” You mumbled, looking at the bundled up lavender, waiting to be dried.
“Can wait,” Carrion motioned for you to follow. “We’re just going around the corner, you’ll be back before you even feel like you were gone.” Then he teased, “I promise I’ll make sure you’re back before your plants shrivel and wilt.”
With a sigh and a little chuckle you relented and walked out of Fisher’s house, side by side. The tavern around the corner wasn’t overwhelmingly busy like it was in the evenings, only a few people from Cahlish and travelers came here early in the day. You sat down across from each other in a small booth next to a window. “I am pretty hungry if I’m being honest.” You admitted, glad that he dragged you here. And glad for his company. If only he knew how much it really meant to you.
“I thought so.” He nodded to the waitress to let her know that he was ready to order. “Two breakfast plates and two mugs of peppermint tea, please.” He requested, then leaned back in his chair, “You look as though you haven’t slept in days.”
“I just–” You sighed and slumped back, tilting your head to each side to stretch the tense muscles in your neck. “It feels wrong to sleep my days away while Everlayne isn’t waking up. I want to do everything I can to help her. What if we waste too much time and she–” You shake your head, unable to voice the thought that had been choking you for weeks.
He was quiet for a few seconds, then replied, “You’re no good to the witch or your sister if you collapse from exhaustion. Maybe you should have Iseabail take another look at her. Or try Te léna again, isn’t healing her specialty? I think if Everlayne has any chance of waking up, it’s with the combined effort of all of us, but certainly not with you running on a diet of peppermint tea and catnaps.”
Of course he was right, you knew that. But every time you slept for more than four hours you felt like you neglected Everlayne. While the bond you felt with her wasn’t as strong as the one that connected you to your twin brother Fisher, she was still your half-sister and over the centuries, you’d developed a friendship that was even more dear to you than the blood you shared. “Iseabail is doing everything she can, she’s already hovering over Everlayne constantly, plus she’s spending hours every day prying the Quicksilver out of Fisher’s head. And Té lena has her hands full with all the other citizens of Cahlish and she has a family to take care of.” You frowned and loosened a shaky breath. “I’m going to Ballard for a few days. There’s a library there that’s pretty extensive with a grand archive. It’s probably pointless, but maybe there’s some sort of hint about what we could still try…” You chewed on your lip and picked at the seams of your sleeves. “I just don’t want to leave a single stone unturned.”
The waitress brought over the two plates filled with bread rolls, eggs and bacon and two mugs of tea. Carrion lifted the steaming cup to his lips, blew on it to cool the liquid, then took a tentative sip. “I could be your travel companion,” He offered, then shrugged, “I would be delighted to help you hunt down dusty old books on ancient healing magic.”
You chuckled at the thought. Spending a few days alone with Carrion sounded like a scenario straight from your daydreams, but Ballard had lots of taverns, alcohol and pretty females. It was already tedious enough to avoid his liaisons in Cahlish. Whenever all of you went to a tavern together, you made it your personal mission to leave first to make sure you wouldn’t see who Carrion left with. But during a trip together, would that even be possible? Your heart clenched painfully at the visuals of you in a creaky inn bed, Carrion next door, lewd noises spilling through the thin walls– “I don’t know, it’s probably going to be really boring, you won't like it.”
He raised a brow in amusement. “My dear, you underestimate the allure intellectual pursuits have on me. Besides, the company you would be offering would be more than enough to make up for any dull moments. Don’t dismiss yourself so easily.” He nudged your plate closer to you, silently urging you to start eating. “Perhaps the real question lies in whether you can tolerate my presence for days on end.”
If only he knew how you craved being around him whenever you weren’t with him. “I can tolerate your presence just fine.” You said, smiling faintly, digging into the first bite of eggs.
“Well then it’s settled.” He declared proudly, grinning. He took another sip of his tea, then placed it on the table. “I would be an absolute fool to pass up on an opportunity to get you all to myself.” He winked, “For days.”
Oh. Was that what this was about? You instantly wondered if you were just another one of his conquests. It wasn’t a secret that Carrion prided himself with the women he bedded. You already had to listen to the story of three River Sprites jerking him off with some sea moss three times during tavern nights and every single time you had made an excuse, either grabbing more ale or using the restroom. By the third time Saeris had followed you, catching you crying in the bathroom of the tavern like some pathetic idiot. She had comforted you and as far as you know, she had kept your secret ever since. It was nights like those when you lost hope for anything serious between you and Carrion ever blooming, but your stupid, naive heart always filled back up with longing. A never-ending cycle, it seemed. “I should get back to Fisher’s house, the lavender isn’t going to dry itself.” You quickly mumbled, pushing your thoughts to the back of your mind, where they belonged.
He watched as your expression faltered, clearly wondering if he had said the wrong thing. “My apologies. Have I upset you?”
“No. No, you haven’t, it’s just…” You sighed and placed your fork back on the table. “Sometimes I wonder why you’re always being so nice to me. I’m not a thing you can check off of some list just so you can stick it to my brother.” Shit. You cringed the second the words had left your mouth and you eyed the little flinch that moved Carrion’s shoulders. Immediately, you felt like Cahlish’s biggest asshole. “Sorry, that was–”
He shook his head, forcing a chuckle and a smile, “I deserved that. I’m aware that my reputation does precede me. Just the thought of what your brother would do to me if he ever found out I had dared to even think about you.” He ran a hand through his hair, sighing. “You know… just because I sometimes don’t exactly keep my hands to myself doesn’t mean I’m incapable of being serious or respectful. You might be surprised to find that I can behave myself on occasion.”
A thousand questions swirled in your head like a storm of the highest grade. Carrion Swift thought about you? Before you could voice any of the thoughts that rendered you stunned, a figure appeared behind Carrion. Renfis grabbed Carrion’s shoulder and smiled gently as he greeted the two of you. You’d known Fisher’s best friend for so long now, it was as if he was a brother to you as well. “Good morning you two. Romantic breakfast?” Renfis quipped and your cheeks flushed. With the exception of Saeris, you hadn’t talked to anyone about your feelings for Carrion and Renfis’s teasing made you wonder if everybody simply suspected it from the way you behaved around Carrion.
He let out an amused chuckle, shaking his head. “You’ve caught us,” He responded, then gave you a suggestive wink. “Breakfast, a little flirting, we had plans of running away together later, but we’re still working out the details.”
A laugh escaped you and Renfis smiled, leaning towards you. “Fisher will kill him, you know that, right?”
“We’re just having breakfast.” You replied and rolled your eyes, taking another bite of your bread roll, followed by a fork filled with eggs.
Renfis shook his head, chuckling. “Whatever, I don’t even want to know what this is. I only came here to tell you that your horse is ready for tomorrow.”
You had asked Renfis yesterday to get a mare prepared for you. Although Fisher could have easily summoned a Shadow Gate in Cahlish that led straight to Ballard, it was too risky to travel by it. The magic could attract all kinds of things and with Belikon still on the loose and undoubtedly out for revenge for what had happened in the labyrinth, a three day horse ride seemed like the most sane decision. “Actually... Could you add another horse?”
“For me,” Carrion clarified, then added with a grin, “We’re eloping.”
You kicked him under the table. “Carrion offered to join me. And it’s probably best that I don’t travel alone at the moment.”
Renfis’s eyes darted between you. “Does Fisher know about this?”
You sighed. “I didn’t know I had to ask Fisher for permission whenever I wanted to leave the city.”
“No, but I do think you should at least let him know that you’re not going to Ballard alone.” Renfis reasoned.
“I will.”
“Good. Then I’ll get the horse prepared.” He shot Carrion a warning look, before turning around and leaving the tavern again.
When it was just the two of you at the table once again, Carrion said, “I’ll go with you to break the news.” A smile tugged at your lips. Was he so eager to do right by you that he would even subject himself to Fisher’s potential wrath? Carrion was charming and a womanizer, yes, but he was also brave and considerate.
“You don’t have to do that. I can handle Fisher.”
“I don’t doubt that,” he shook his head, “But this was my idea, was it not? It’s only fair that I face the consequences at your side.”
The tone he wrapped his warm words in pinched your heartstrings and you smiled. Gods and Martyrs, out of all the males available, why did you have to fall in love with Carrion Swift? If he could hear your thoughts right now, he’d surely make a run for it and you wouldn’t even blame him.
After you’d finished breakfast, you took a detour to your apartment so you could change your damp clothes for a dry pair of leather trousers and a cotton tunic. Then you made your way back to Fisher’s place. Your brother and Saeris weren’t home, so you decided to not waste anymore time before leaving tomorrow and dry the leftover herbs and flowers. “Grab some of the chamomile and lavender bundles, shake them a bit to get any bugs out, like this.” You showed Carrion how to rattle the flowers without breaking them. He watched carefully and when he looked slightly bewildered, you chuckled. “What? You might as well help me while we wait for Fisher to return.”
“I didn’t realize I’d be put to work,” he teased, picking up a bundle and mimicking your movements. The lavender filled the air with its delicate fragrance, enveloping both of you as you stood closely together, preparing the plants for drying.
Ignoring his comment, you moved the shaken bundles over to the sink and handed Carrion a clean cotton towel. “I’ll rinse them, you pat them dry. Careful though, don’t squish them.”
“Don’t squish them, got it,” Carrion repeated, nodding in understanding.
As you and Carrion worked side by side, a comfortable silence settled between you, broken only by the sounds of running water and the occasional chuckle from his side when you playfully shot glares at him for making a mess of the wet flowers. The simplicity of the moment made the weight of Fisher’s imminent reaction temporarily vanish, and for the first time in weeks you felt like you had enough room to breathe. You weren’t quite sure if your heart could handle the next few days without breaking once they were over again. Apparently, it was quite easy to get used to Carrion.
“Do you miss Zilvaren?” You asked, trying to get out of your own head and fill the room with conversation. “You traded resources on the black market, right?”
“Zilvaren,” He echoed, contemplating for a moment. His deft hands continued to dry the lavender with a gentle touch, his gaze fixed on his task as he spoke. “It’s a city of opportunities. A perfect place to trade and strike profitable deals.” He paused, then added with a hint of nostalgia, “I suppose I do miss the thrill of the underground world. The power that came with being the one who controlled the flow of certain goods. The networking. It was a dangerous game, but I reveled in it. And fuck, it sure made me a lot of coin.” A mischievous smirk played on his lips as he looked up at you.
“It also made you a criminal.”
Carrion let out an amused huff, “I prefer to think of myself as a rule breaker with exceptional entrepreneurial skills.”
He did have a way with words, you had to give him that. You could tell why he had been an unparalleled smuggler in Zilvaren. Carrion dapped the towel on the last bundle of chamomile, then you nodded towards the tiny pantry. “There are hooks on the ceiling, I like to hang them up in there.” You wrapped each bundle with a long string of twine, then handed it to him so he could tie a knot around the metal hooks. You stood right in front of him, catching a glimpse of the muscles that flexed underneath the fabric of his shirt, whenever he lifted his arms. “Once we’re in Ballard we should ask for a layout of the library and make a plan. This way we don’t waste time searching for the right sections and we can cross off the ones we already looked through so we don’t go through one twice.” Quickly, you averted your gaze from his body and handed him another bundle to hang.
His movements displayed confidence and grace, despite the fact that he had never done any of this before. The sight of him engaged in such a mundane task had an undeniable effect on you. His mere presence was enough to make you feel lightheaded at times, but having him there with you, in the warmth of the kitchen, the tiny confined space of the pantry– it was intoxicating. It made you forget yourself, made you forget how he really viewed you, made you forget the ache of knowing that he’d never want you the same way you wanted him. “That’s a splendid idea,” He said with a smile. For a moment your gazes met and you wordlessly stared at each other. You were supposed to hand him the next bundle, but instead you stood frozen in place, your eyes leaving his for a quarter of a second, darting to his lips, then back up again. Carrion picked up on it immediately and slowly leaned down, giving you enough time to pull away, but by the Gods, that was the last thing you wanted to do right now. A magnetic pull seemed to draw you closer, an invisible force that you had no control over. He cupped your chin, tilting your face up, his thumb gently brushing the curve of your bottom lip. His fingers slid to the nape of your neck, the soft touch electrifying every nerve in your body. The air thickened around you as Carrion closed the remaining distance between you and captured your mouth in a tender kiss. It was a thorough kiss. Beautiful and full of unspoken emotion. His tongue stroked yours in gentle swipes and you’d just begun relaxing into a brilliant rhythm, when the front door opened, causing you and Carrion to jump apart. A moment later, Fisher and Saeris entered the kitchen. You wiped your palms on your legs and emerged from the pantry, Carrion right behind you, the bundles of freshly hung lavender dangling in the background. “There you are!” You stated overly excited.
Carrion cleared his throat and gave Fisher and Saeris a casual smile, masking the moment you’d just shared as best as he could. “You’re back– excellent. We have news for the two of you.”
Eyes widening, you looked at Carrion, then your brother. “Ehm, yes. Do you want to sit down? I can make some tea.”
“What is it?” Fisher probed impatiently, his glare bouncing around like a bullet. Saeris took one glance at your flustered and overwhelmed face and reached out, squeezing Fisher’s hand to calm him down.
“I– I would like to go to Ballard. Tomorrow. I want to search through the library, maybe I’ll be able to find something to help Everlayne.” You started, letting that piece of information sink in first, before telling him about your plan to let Carrion accompany you.
“That doesn’t sound like a terrible idea,” Saeris stated, then added, “We should make use of all the information we can get our hands on.”
“Yes,” Fisher agreed. “The more eyes and brains on this matter, the better.”
“Yes, that’s exactly my thinking,” Carrion chimed in, seizing the opportunity to speak before your brother could say anything else, “And that’s why I’ll be joining her to offer a second pair of eyes.”
Well, that wasn’t exactly how you’d imagined easing Fisher into the thought of you traveling alone with Carrion Swift.
He looked at Carrion, a moment passed, then he deadpanned, “Absolutely not.”
You rolled your eyes and sighed. “Fisher–”
“No,” he repeated, crossing his arms. “Out of the question. I’ll take you there myself or you can go with Saeris or Lorreth or Ren, I don’t care– anyone but him.”
“You’re being completely unreasonable. Carrion has been nothing but helpful and kind to me.”
“He’s a philanderer,” Fisher retorted flatly.
“Gods alive…” You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose. “Alright, this is ridiculous. We’re twins. You’re neither older than me nor are you my parent. I had the courtesy to ask you, but if you’re going to treat me like an imbecile who can’t make her own decisions, then I will just do as I please.” You shoved past him and towards the door, but
Carrion held your hand, stopping you, giving one of his charming smiles, then said, “Let’s not make any hasty decisions. I’m sure there’s a compromise to be made that everyone can live with.”
You raised a brow at Fisher who rolled his eyes, the stubborn male only relented when Saeris nudged him. He sighed, then conceded, “What do you propose?”
Carrion looked at you, then at Fisher, his tone full of unwavering confidence. “She’ll be safe in my company. I’ll escort her to Ballard and to the library and the inn we’ll reside in, ensuring her well-being every step of the way. Once she’s done with her research, we’ll leave immediately. No detours, no diversions.” A mischievous smile crossed his lips as he added, “And to set your mind at ease, we could have Renfis accompany us.”
That sounded like a fair and mature agreement and one sideways glance at your brother told you that there wasn’t much left he could disagree with now. Fisher sighed, nodding reluctantly.
“Fine. But Renfis will not join you. I need him here.” He glowered at Carrion, his expression hardening as he continued, “You simply won’t try anything with her or take advantage of this situation, otherwise I will not hesitate to end you.”
Carrion grinned in spite of Fisher’s threatening tone, knowing that he had won this battle. “Fantastic,” he said, then turned to you, his devious smile softening into something more sincere, “So, tomorrow morning then?”
“Tomorrow morning.” You confirmed and your eyes met in a meaningful glimpse that lingered for a moment.
The evening was filled with an awkward dinner, Fisher sitting at the head of the table, Saeris to his right and you to his left. Saeris tried to make light conversation, but you were still pissed at your brother’s behaviour and Fisher was not giving the impression that he felt like apologizing for it, which made you even more furious. You were glad when your plate was finally empty and you could make your way to your room. As you lay underneath the soft cotton blankets, your mind wandered back to the kiss you’d shared with Carrion in the cramped pantry. Fuck, he was a really good kisser, you had definitely expected that much. He was probably just as good in bed. It was clear that he wasn’t lacking experience. He hadn’t been shy talking about the conquests he had made since entering Yvelia and back in Zilvaren, it must have been even worse. An ugly twitch of jealousy made your heart thump painfully in your chest, even though you had no right. It was one kiss. To him, it probably meant nothing, a heat of the moment kind of thing. To you, it had only confirmed that you felt something for him. Sleep found you way too late and when you woke to the fainting dawn, your entire body was groaning in response to the few hours of actual rest you had gotten. Bag packed, you made your way to the kitchen, forced down a few bites of porridge and just before you exited through the front door, a clear of Fisher’s throat sounding from the hallway had your head turning around.
Fisher was standing there, leaning against the wall, watching you, frustration and worry fighting a battle in the lines of his face. He let out a heavy sigh before speaking, “I’m worried about you, alright?”
“I know you are. But that doesn’t give you the right to dictate my decisions.”
“Fair,” He admitted, his shoulders tensing as he struggled to say his next words. You were taken aback when he spoke, for it was so uncharacteristic of him to be this vulnerable and open. “I just… can’t lose you too,” he continued softly, his tone betraying the deep-seated fear that had transformed into anger the past night. “I can’t lose anyone else I love.”
Your chin wobbled, but you managed to catch yourself. He was talking about your father, your mother and Everlayne, who was teetering on the edge of being gone forever as well. You felt all of those losses in the same painful way Fisher did. “You won’t lose me, just because I take a trip to Ballard and read through some books. And you won’t lose me just because Carrion joins me either.”
The corners of his mouth lifted, and for all the times you’d seen him wear his signature smirk, this smile, however fragile, was genuine. He pushed off the wall and closed the distance between you, pulling you into a tight hug, “If anything happens, and I mean anything that makes you uncomfortable or doesn’t seem right even in the slightest, you send word and I’ll be there. Got it?”
“Got it.”
A light kiss to the top of your forehead, then he let you go, but not before shooting you a look that clearly said ‘Don’t you dare get into trouble’. He gave you a playful shove as you turned to the door. “And tell that prick to watch his hands.”
“Fisher!” A flush crept up your neck and you shook your head.
He called after you, “What? It’s my duty as your brother to tell you those things!”
You gave a crude gesture and a goodbye wave, before disappearing into the streets of Cahlish.
The stables where Ren had prepared your horses for the trip were only a few corners away and when they came into view, you saw that Carrion was already waiting, one shoulder casually leaned against a wooden beam, chatting to one of the stable boys. The soft, muted colors of his clothing that blended perfectly with the earthy, stony surroundings of the city were just another indicator of how well Carrion Swift adapted to wherever he was. He was the rightful heir to the Yvelian throne and yet, right here, he looked like a normal citizen, simply going about his day. Like a chameleon, that was also really good at smooth talking and business. He had dressed himself in a loose, ash-gray linen shirt, the first few buttons open, revealing a bit of toned muscle beneath. Over it, he wore a fitted, deep brown vest, its edges trimmed with faint embroidery and small fastenings running down the front. The vest hugged his frame, emphasizing the broad span of his shoulders. His dark trousers were tugged into worn leather boots with creases that could undoubtedly tell stories about long days spent on foot. You swallowed hard as you came closer to Carrion and the stable boy. There was an effortless allure that always surrounded him and it drove you positively mad. In all of your centuries of living, no male had ever had that sort of effect on you and it scared the shit out of you.
“Good morning.” You greeted as you came to a halt next to the two males.
Carrion looked up at you, the sun illuminating his blonde, bronze, auburn locks, his smile widening. He dismissed the stable boy with a friendly nod, before he stared for a moment, just drinking in the sight of you. “Morning, Sunshine.”
“You all set?” You asked, unable to get rid of the tingling in your lips where you still felt the kiss you had shared in the pantry last night. You couldn’t help but wonder what would have happened if Saeris and Fisher hadn’t walked in.
Looking as if he was thinking about the exact same thing, Carrion licked his bottom lip and said, “I am. And I’ve taken the liberty of grabbing us some breakfast from the tavern. The trip will take us three days if we travel swiftly,” he turned to the two horses waiting in their individual stalls, running his hands down the flank of the one next to him, “So I’d recommend we get going.”
The chestnut colored mare that was sprinkled with white flecks looked friendly enough, not making a fuss at all when you swung yourself on its back. You had never been very fond of riding, you’d choose to travel via one of Fisher’s Shadow Gates any day, but Belikon had his soldiers all over Yvelia now and one of them sensing Fisher’s magic was a risk not worth taking. Especially not for the road that led from Cahlish to Ballard, it was one of the quieter travel routes, often taken by families and guarded by warriors. As the two of you rode next to each other in comfortable silence for a little while, you couldn’t hide the smile that bloomed on your face, even with your head slightly dipped. This was either going to be absolutely delightful, or you’d truly get your heart broken.
Ok, I have a bit of a strange question, but I made a skulk-based oc who lives in the deep dark and isn't completely human, and kinda just... yoinks players' stuff when they die? Like some kinda crow or something.
How would the witherborn (assuming there's already an established relationship) react if she passed out from heatstroke or something? (She lives in a cave, she's used to the cold so yeah she's not having a good time lol)
A very big and broad question- definitely nice seeing asks like this come through, though. You get the ones off of the top of my head
Killer is initially alarmed. He doesn't live in a SOULsand valley like the majority of the others- the nether (hell, even the desert) has to be hell for you. He's immediately grabbing you and either getting through a nether portal or sprinting at top speed towards a SOULsand valley to keep you cool. While he keeps up a charming and suave and uncaring bravado (and he cannot feel remorse or empathy), that doesn't stop him from being like "oh. oh fuck."
Dust sort of blinks twice before tilting his head and trying to figure out a way to cool you down. This... actually quite likely ends with you in his arms because, unlike the others, he is very cold to the touch. Not so much that it'd shock you and hurt (due to the contrast between heat and cold) but to the point where it may be... slightly uncomfortable? He'd be getting you to a deep dark as soon as he could- not that he's exactly well-travelled in the overworld.
Lust would likely immediately freak out and help you as well as he could. He can't say he's great at dealing with species he's unaware of- but he's trying his best. He lives deep in the warped forest, so the temperatures are slightly cooler there, but the best thing is, is the fact he has a nether portal right next to his house.
Ccino you wouldn't have met in the nether- so you'll be in a desert. His immediate reaction is actually to simply burrow underground to the much, much cooler cave systems and bring you what you need in order to aid you in your recovery. Any mob that decides to fuck around will find out.
Carrion (Birdtale Sans) has immediately dumped fire res on you and scampered to take you into the overworld once more. He's cursing under his breath about your antics- why the hell you went to the burning fire hellpit that he lives in when you're almost a creature belonging to an opposite environment. In reality, he's just really concerned.
Hello! I saw your requests are open! So im just gonna like,,, pOP in ;;3. This is my first time sending something in so I hope it goes through! I imagine the TTIGRAAS Demon Lords, like Lord Crimson and Clay don't like sharing. So I wanna ask if the Demon Lords ( or Octagram?) would share s/os? Or if they would allow polys, how would they make it work?? Could they be capable of sharing their s/o with another?
(Starting this after cleanup with a banger, I made an exception to my rules with this one, I really wanted to answer it. Examples and a deep relationship analyze undercut, the Demon Lords are like 10 people. Excluding Rimuru, as he's not yet apart of the Lord's group at this set time, where he finishes his first meeting with Milim. Subtle hints at emotional manipulation, because Clayman. -Weirdo)
Ten Demon Lords & S/O in Polymerous?
That Time I Got Reincarnated As A Slime
Minor Spoiler Warning (TTIGRAAS Volume 6; Demon Lord Attack)
Polyamorous isn’t unheard of alike in demon and monstrous cultures, it's common practice in Inhuman societies. There are pods, packs, groupies. In fact, it's known to be far more acceptable amongst them than amongst humans. Humans are judgmental creatures, less likely to accept the abnormal; people different than what is considered 'normal'. Doesn't render them any less predatory or more non-beastly natured over their lovers and personal possessions, however. The Ten Great Demon Lords aren’t just a group of common monsters casually playing around, showing off and “practicing” in a playground with each other.
Really, the answer is both yes and no. Romancing relationships with all of them at once is flat-out impossible.
Separate pairs however…
Depends on who shares with whom in what situation. It can be hard for the S/O to connect any dots, form any plan, make any predictions since the Demon Lords aren’t wearing their feelings on their sleeves, in view of parrying eyes and wandering souls. It could stir from being only slightly easy to manage or to being damn near impossible, only a small few of the Demon Lords tolerate each other better or worse than the rest, but never all the same. Nearly all of them believe other monsters and humans in general are beneath them, unimportant and weak. So, dividing your love with another creature they have little opinion or no high value of will be difficult if they aren’t slowly introduced first. And some of them are too empirical to know them by themselves in that case. It depends on them and on how flexible and accepting you are as well; it can get pretty complex. There will be complications no doubt, some hardships able to be defeated and some just unable to work well or change no matter how much time passes.
-
Guy Crimson and Milim Nava, for example, work; getting along well together generally, a brother/sister dynamic. Always chattering, having fun. In potential polymerous relationships, they won’t immediately fall into a fit. Guy is the accompanying stream to Milim’s rocky path. Milim, the exciting calm after Guy’s oncoming storm. They're practically family; a brotherly, sisterly duo that have been friends since the first generation of Demon Lords and onward, still close as ever even after Rimuru arrived. Guy and Milim trust and hold fondness towards each other, giving the fewest arguments and most flexible amount of understanding out of the Demon Lords-excluding Rimuru since he wasn’t a part of the Great Demon Lords till later-they have the best relationship. There will hardly be issues sharing their S/O’s, and even when there is, it is managed ahead of time before it becomes a real problem. Agreed to come together to peacefully talk then offer solutions. This especially is important since neither of them had experience in romance or polymerous relationships. But really, they both will work with anyone who can not only keep up with them, but also tolerate the unpredictable rush of their personalities (Such as Carrion, Dino and Dagruel. And as patient as Leon is-taking Guy’s annoying invasions of space with a grain of salt-it will take a good bit of convincing, since Leon is a difficult man to partake with in romance).
Communication is crucial, the key to any successful relationship. And when Inhumans are involved, touch is another piece of said key. Intimacy is important in keeping relationships alive. While Milim, Carrion and Ramiris certainly have a word or two to spare, actions always speak louder to them than anything else. Actions are the purest physical proof of nearly everything in their worlds. Minds over matter, swords over pens. As long as their partner treats them equal to whomever they split the S/O with, along with their own personal approval of them, then it should run smoothly between them. Any Demon Lord won’t take kindly to being the third wheel. Fair commitment is something Demon Lords look for in polys.
Ramiris, for example, is needy greedy for any sort of praise and attention. She is willing to manage some wiggle room for your happiness and comfort but will be pretty pouty. Wants as much of a chance to experience things with you as the other, the freedom and affection along with it. If she ever feels left out on any occasion, she will absolutely bring it up later, if not sooner to complain. Either to you, the new partner or her Arch Doll. Complains to whoever will listen (And Guy listens…if he catches a mere hint of you treating Ramiris wrong, giving anything less than what she deserves, then an earful won’t be the worst you need to worry about).
Of course, not everything is sunshine and rainbows. Demon Lords are still very capable of hate. Demons are known for an absence of humanity, moral ties; some are even proud of their lack of consciousness. Not exactly the most generous street of people you can come across, when you cross that road, you best be ready for some twists and turns because nothing in demonic culture is a straight line. A Demon Lord sharing you with another Demon Lord is actually plausible. However, some people just refuse to mix no matter what, separate like water and oil.
If such Demon Lords are Leon Cromwell and Clayman however, you're just wishing for everything to explode upon impact. It won’t work for quite a number of different reasons that may not be totally obvious their first few times together in your presence. Definitely not their first meeting, but it is yours all together. Guy and Milim mix sweetly like milk and chocolate, but Leon and Clayman work as well together as nuclear fission and human life. Except they don’t, because the end results are complete utter destruction. Clayman is an intelligent man who prepares ahead for every outcome of his plan, but his greatest flaws are paranoia and overthinking. Clayman loves his S/O, he surprises even himself in that regard. But he wholly loathes Leon. Leon is a threat to Clayman in every way possible and Leon’s feelings reflect mutually in that matter. Both are incredibly skeptical, cautious and super suspicious of the other. Clayman’s expertise is to take advantage of weak people absent in relationships, romantic or not; takes heed to learn their weaknesses, gain power for himself and create even stiffer strings on his prized puppets. In time, Clayman grew. Becoming a fantastic manipulator, a true puppet master. Only logical to think the remaining Great Demon Lords are capable of such too, none of them are fools. No such thing as over prepared or being too careful. It's not only with Leon, Clayman will seriously be against splitting affections amongst any Lord or any other ruffian.
The main problem is a Demon Lord’s territorial, possessive nature. Not to mention, lack of trust for some, lots threaten to clash. Frey is the iron-hearted ruler of the Harpies, and while Harpies socializing in groups is the norm, their fearsome protectiveness of their partners is operant. Frey represents the harpies’ pride and soul; she won’t care much to allow someone brand new to intrude in an important bond of hers, one she worked so hard to forge and maintain. Trust doesn’t come easy to Frey; respect must be earned and spoken for, not through brute force. Alike too for Roy Valentin and Carrion or any inhuman really. It's probable they will agree to polymerous, Frey will voice doubts, act cautious till somehow reassured. And Roy is a tad bit vocal against it. Vampires really, really hate sharing; Luminous Valentine will put it bluntly. But Roy tries hard to sound ‘polite’ nonetheless, for your sake and his reputation. Equality and-as mentioned above-communication are necessary strings to tie your numerous relationships, it's critical for those ties to be steel tough if you want a Demon Lord to permanently corporate; all your partners will play big roles in making sure the strings remain strong. Logically, since you’re the one suggesting polyamorous, it is highly likely the S/O works as center tether. Be patient and sit to talk calmly with your Lords, don’t be shy. It is normal to be nervous in these specific situations, but you must hold stiff. Prove trust, hear each corresponding side of the spectrum. Don't hide your thoughts and cover feelings, and especially don’t show a hint of dishonesty. The Lords are used to long meetings even if discussions last hours, they will stay right there where they sit and listen. They will respect you, and the other lover, as long as it is returned back.
The ones who give the least shit in polymerous are Dino and Dagruel. Dino is as laid-back around his S/O as Dagruel is as trusting of them, they don’t take it too badly. Not as badly as others might. Dino is too lazy to really complain and Dagruel refuses to waste time putting up fusses like a brat's child; reckless meltdowns aren't how Lords act, no point in getting so shaken up about something you are all working together to solve. The first thing Dagruel does is try to get around it-rocky as it will be with Dino in the mix-work it out peacefully. Stomping around is the last thing anyone should do, it reflects poorly on him and looks bad for you (When it comes to thirst and bloodshed, Dagruel is the least violent of the Demon Lords really, he practices a strict but mumble persona for a S/O). It stems from their devotion to their inner desires and their attachments to the ones they actually care about. Your other partner is likely to be a weakling anyway if they aren’t a Demon Lord, not worth fighting over something easily discussable. Dino would think about killing the partner a couple times (If not a recognized Demon Lord that is.) to save himself future annoyances, he ultimately decides against it, solely for your sake. The fact it's your sake keeps his normally sour behavior in check too.
Honestly, they could put more effort in their opinions to not share you. Most of them absolutely don’t want to share, as a Demon Lord prefers their lover all to themselves. But the thing is, they don’t necessarily "care". You're known well enough, someone they like having by their side. Considering you one of their most important persons, being a Demon Lord's beloved companion already promises you a joyous life of luxury. A decent amount of protection and control. Dino and Dagruel know themselves to be excellent judges of character, malevolents are able to sense other malevolents. They’ll sense and tell if anything is amiss, analyzing the new lover like hawks, keeping tabs on their recent activities outside of their range. Whether in a poly with you or by separate, Demon Lords still assert dominance over them in their relationship with you, mostly threats to their person and hometown if they dip a toe out of line, out of habit and character; they treat them as an inferior. Thank their titles of Demon Lord for their attitude. Goes without saying, Demon lords are overprotective of their S/Os, and are great at hiding their true intentions for no reason. Once your Demon Lords grow used to their presence and view your new partner as non-threatening, they eventually but surely relent. They will start welcoming them, speaking in notably less hostility.
Hey! Honestly I just loveeeee your writing, I’m obsessed with it all! Couldn’t help but notice your current read is Brimstone — me too! And I’m loving it and completely in love with Carrion Swift. Not sure if your requests are even open but do you think you’ll write any more about him? I’ll literally take anything I can get haha! X
Warning(s): Carrion lowkey checking you out, typical male behavior lol
Summary: Carrion Swift would never, could never, ever catch feelings. Ever. However, when staring death in the face, that hard-wired thinking in his brain seems to re-wire itself; and he hates the new feelings it brings along with it.
SR’s Note: Dinner is served... tee hee <3
Tags: @rcarbo1 @lilah-asteria @whyucloudingmymind @bookofriverr @kitsunetori @velarisdusk @nctsawrus @lreadsstuff @paintedbyshadows @woollybread786 @invisiblepixies @cherry-hotline @obi-wansgirl @therevoloutionhasbegun @bookishbishhh (inbox me or comment if you'd like to be added!)
Carrion Swift had a bad habit of smirking in the face of death.
Even now, with his wrists bound behind his back and the cold iron bite of the executioner’s blade looming somewhere in his near future, he couldn’t help but flash a grin at the nearest guard. The man scowled behind his metallic armored helmet, tightening his grip on Carrion’s elbow as they marched through the narrow streets of Zilvaren.
"You'd do best to wipe that grin off your face, Swift," the guard growled. "Before Queen Madra catches sight of it, and lowers the guillotine blade herself."
There was no crowd gathered at the edges of the road this time. The Silver City was unusually quiet. No jeers, no thrown garbage; just the occasional muttered curse or hissed insult as the city dwellers hurried by, steering clear of the royal guard and their new prisoner.
Carrion had stolen from nobles before, had pissed off merchants and pissed on their pride, but this? Stealing Madra's prized jeweled dagger, right from her bedside? That was a first, even for him.
And now, apparently, a last.
The palace gates loomed ahead, sun-glinting gold twisting into shapes that resembled the heat that rose from the ground as the twin suns beat down on it, day in and day out.
Carrion swallowed, just once, and forced his grin wider.
"Bit dramatic, don't you think?" He said to the guard, nodding at the gates. "All this for a knife?"
The guard gripping his tied wrists didn't answer. The other one to his left, though, the one with the scar splitting his eyebrow -- he smirked.
Suddenly, the scarred guard's head snapped sideways as something small and dark whirred through the air, striking his temple with a wet crack.
He crumpled, gold and silver armor falling to the ground in a boneless heap, as though there were no body inside at all.
Carrion blinked.
The remaining guard barely had time to unsheathe his sword before a shadow detached itself from the rooftops, landing behind him in a swirl of sandy dust and dark fabric.
A glint of steel. A choked gurgle. Swipe.
The guard collapsed, clutching his throat.
Carrion stared at the figure now standing over the two bodies. Whoever it was were slight, wrapped in layers of dark linen, their face obscured except for a pair of eyes -- sharp as the blade they'd just used.
"Well," Carrion drawled, shifting his bound wrists awkwardly behind his back. "This is unexpected."
The figure didn't speak. They just stepped closer, quick fingers working at the ropes tying his wrists behind his back. Carrion's brow furrowed as his cheeks heated, uncomfortable with the lack of effect his usual charm had on, well... anyone.
The moment his hands were free, Carrion flexed his fingers, eyeing the newcomer. He tried again.
"Not that I'm ungrateful, but-"
The figure whipped around, shoving him hard against the castle's wall as another guard rounded the corner. He saw it then; a long braid, loosened from the hood covering their head. Long, pretty locks, tied together with a band near their narrow waist. It had to be... a woman.
Carrion sucked in a breath; close enough to smell the faint citrus and smoke scent clinging to your clothes. You kept a hand splayed flat against Carrion's chest, holding him to the wall as you stepped forward one half step, flinging a dagger straight into the guard's throat just as he rounded the corner.
The man went down without a sound, blood pooling silently on the Zilvaren street.
"Okay," Carrion muttered, rubbing his wrists as he tried to figure out the idea of you inside of his brain. "So you're not here to chat, then."
You turned back to him, and for the first time, he saw amusement flicker in your eyes. Then you reached up, tugging down the scarf covering your face, yanking it off harshly and breathing a lung full of pure, unrestricted air.
Carrion's breath caught at the sight.
You.
He'd seen you before; lingering near the market stalls in the Third, slipping through alleyways like a rumor. He remembered seeing you at Kala's, or he thought it was you... he was too drunk that night to remember. But those eyes -- he was sure he'd seen you, many times.
But never like this.
Never with your cheeks flushed from the fight, your lips curved in a smirk that mirrored his own. Never so assertive, hands on your hips... Gods, and in such a sinfully plain outfit that accentuated your curves so well.
Never so close to him, smelling like the very thing he'd like to taste on his tongue-
"Staring," you said, your voice low. "That's rude, Carrion Swift."
Carrion opened his mouth.
Closed it.
What the Hell was he supposed to say to that?
And then, he thought his heart stopped when your eyes squinted, your smirk widening, the softest sound he'd heard in a very, very long time coming from the deadliest assassin he'd ever met.
You were giggling.
"I never thought I'd see Carrion Swift, speechless."
Then, because he just couldn't help himself, and it was the first though that came to his mind, he blurted;
"You're beautiful when you kill people."
You rolled your eyes, but the grin didn't fade. Carrion didn't mind, he was quite enjoying watching you; what he did mind, was the fact that he didn't mind.
"We're leaving. Now." You stated, turning serious, just like that. Were you always like this? Bossy? Switching up at the drop of a hat?
Why did he find it so... hot?
Why was he even thinking about this right now?
Carrion mentally slapped himself. You had just saved his life, that was for sure. What in all of Zilvaren was he thinking right now?
You grabbed his wrist, hauling him into a sprint just as shouts erupted from the castle's gates behind you. Carrion's wrists screamed in pain, but he just let you pull him along, his pulse hammering for reasons that had nothing to do with the chase.
He followed you, thinking a million things he shouldn't, wondering why he placed his full and complete trust in an absolute, total, beautiful stranger. Your long braid whipped behind you as you ran, and he tried to focus on where you were headed, where you were leading him -- but he was a man after all, and you were after all, moving so elegantly right before his very eyes.
He hated the way it felt like you had him in a trance. How had he let this happen, how had it happened so... fast?
The ropes had left raw marks on his skin. The palace guards were coming for him, and now, they'd come for you, too. He'd narrowly escaped death, as he always had, and this time, he had you to thank for it. The Queen would never stop until she found him now, and when she did... he could only imagine what fate he'd face.
And for the first time in his life, Carrion Swift thought he might be in real trouble.
Summary: Your on-again, off-again relationship is the one thing most fret-worthy in your shitty life living in The Third; the one open wound you can no longer ignore.
SR’s Note: This was such a great use of this song, I feel like -- and leave it to Carrion Swift to get caught up in toxic relationship problems. xoxo
Tags: @rcarbo1 @lilah-asteria @whyucloudingmymind @bookofriverr @kitsunetori @velarisdusk @nctsawrus @lreadsstuff @paintedbyshadows @woollybread786 @invisiblepixies @cherry-hotline @bookishbishhh @therevoloutionhasbegun (inbox me or comment if you'd like to be added!)
You've stopped counting the days since you last spoke to Carrion Swift, though your body seems to keep its own tally; a dull ache behind your ribs that flares up at odd moments. When you pass the dark alleyways where he used to buy those shitty smoke sticks for you at 2 AM. When you hear someone laugh with that same rough edge, like gravel tumbling in a cement mixer. When you wake up reaching for warmth that isn't there.
The Third isn't the kind of place that forgives confusion. It's a town that demands clarity, brutal and uncompromising, because everything here is already stripped down to its bones. The town that forgot your mother's name years ago, as she died right here on the street. The dilapidated production theater's marquee that still advertises a play from over a decade ago, half the letters missing so it just reads "ONCE UP N A TI E." The bar where you're headed—The House of Kala, though everyone just calls it "the place where dealings are made", has an owner that some days cares who fills her barstools but most days doesn't.
You understand that feeling.
Your boots crunch over broken glass in the front lot. Someone's always breaking bottles out here, as if the town itself isn't shattered enough. The dry desert wind cuts through your overgarments, and you wrap your arms around your exposed skin, though you know the sudden chill you're feeling has nothing to do with the weather. It's been living inside you for three months now, ever since the last time Carrion looked at you with those stormy blue eyes and said, "maybe we should take a break."
A break. As if your relationship was something that could be paused, set aside, picked up again when convenient. As if the two of you were living in a novella and not two people who'd carved their initials into each other's hearts with dull knives.
Except you don't know if that's what you were.
Are.
Were?
The tense itself is uncertain, and that's what makes you angriest. The not knowing. The way he pulled away without explanation, the way his responses became shorter and shorter until they stopped altogether. The way you'd see him around town -- The Third is too small for clean breaks -- and he'd nod at you like you were acquaintances. Like he hadn't traced every scar on your body with his fingertips and memorized the stories behind them.
You thought you knew what was happening. Elide Mendez, with her perfect smile and her "real job" that paid her rather nicely. A real job with real money; that girl had never needed to steal or connive or betray one day in her life.
It was no wonder Carrion would prefer her.
You'd seen them talking outside the post, seen the way she touched his arm. Seen the way he didn't pull away. So you'd pulled away first, built walls so high even you couldn't see over them. If he was going to leave, you'd make sure you left first.
Pride is a poison that tastes like sour medicine going down.
The bar's door hangs crooked on its hinges, and you have to shoulder it open. Inside, the air is thick with cigarette smoke, even though smoking's been banned inside Kala for years. Nobody enforces anything in The Third, though -- the town's too tired to care about its own rules.
You order a whiskey, neat, because that's what you drink now. You used to order sweet things, cocktails with names like "Yvelia Boulevard" and "Ajun Sky." But Carrion drank whiskey, and somewhere along the way, you started drinking it too, and now you can't go back to the sweet stuff. It tastes like lying.
The bartender -- Myke, or Marc, you can never remember -- pours with a heavy hand. He doesn't ask if you're okay. Nobody asks that here. In The Third, everyone's not okay, and pointing it out would be redundant.
You're halfway through your drink when you feel it. That prickle at the back of your neck, the one that says you're being watched.
You turn, and of course -- there he is.
Carrion fucking Swift, leaning against the beat up musicbox that hasn't worked since before you were born, looking at you like you're a ghost he's been trying to forget.
He's wearing that same leather jacket, the one with the torn pocket you kept meaning to sew. His striking red hair is longer now, curling at his collar. He needs a shave. He looks tired. He looks beautiful.
You hate that you notice.
For a moment, neither of you move. The bar continues its sad symphony around you -- the clink of glasses, the murmur of people trying to drink away the reality, the buzz of the gnats hovering over empty bottles and sweating dealers.
But then Carrion pushes off from the wall and walks toward you, and your heart does something complicated in your chest, something between a leap and a lurch.
"Didn't expect to see you here," he says, and his voice is exactly as you remember it. Rough and low, like he's been gargling gravel, but somehow it's the most beautiful sound you've heard in months.
"Brynn hasn't thrown me out yet," you say, and immediately hate yourself for the cliché way it sounded. You down the rest of your whiskey, signaling for another.
"Can we talk?"
"We are talking."
"You know what I mean."
You do know. But you're not ready. You may never be ready.
"I don't think there's anything to say, Carrion. Besides, whatever we once had is over now, is it not?"
He flinches at his name. You've always loved his name; Carrion Swift, like a bird of prey, like something wild and untamable. His mother named him after a bird she saw the day he was born, circling over the hospital. A vulture, graceful despite its grim purpose. He used to joke that it was fitting, that he was born to pick over the remains of things.
"There's everything to say," he replies, and there's an edge to his voice now, something sharp. "You just won't listen. And no, it was never 'over'... not to me, anyway."
"I won't listen?" The anger flares hot and immediate, and you ignore the last part of what he said. You set down your empty glass harder than you intended, and the bartender holds off on delivering your next drink.
"You're the one who disappeared. You're the one who decided we needed a 'break.'" You make air quotes, and it feels childish, but you don't care. "You're the one who..."
"Who what?" He steps closer, and you can smell him now—cigarettes and leather and that soap he uses, the cheap kind from the weekly market that somehow smells like cedar. "Who watched you fall for someone else and tried to give you space?"
The words hit you like a slap.
"What are you talking about?"
"Don't play dumb. It doesn't suit you." His jaw is tight, and you can see the muscle jumping there, the way it does when he's trying not to say something he'll regret. "Jayke Morrison. I saw you two together. Saw the way you laughed at his jokes, the way you'd light up when he walked into the diner."
Jayke Morrison. Your newest accomplice. Your friend.
Your very gay friend in fact who spent half his shifts in the ironwork's tavern cattering with you and your brother, talking half the time about his boyfriend from the Zilveran Capitol and the other half planning his escape from The Third.
"Jayke?" You almost laugh, but it comes out as something closer to a sob. "You thought... Carrion, Jayke is gay. He has a boyfriend. He's moving to the Capitol next month to be with him."
Carrion's face does something complicated. His eyes widen, then narrow, then close completely. "What?"
"He's gay," you repeat, and now you're getting angry, really angry, the kind of anger that's been building for three months and finally has somewhere to go. "He's been with Marcuce for two years. I was even helping him plan his going-away festivities, you absolute idiot."
"But you were always together. You were always smiling around him."
"Because he's my friend!" Your voice is rising now, and people are starting to look, but you don't care. Let them look.
"Because he made me laugh when I was miserable because the man I loved was pulling away from me for no godsdamned reason!"
"I had a reason," Carrion says, and his voice is quieter now, dangerous. "I was trying to do the right thing. I thought... I thought you'd be happier with him. He has plans. He's getting out of here. I'm just --" He gestures around the bar, at The Third beyond it. "I'm just this. This town, this life. I'm never leaving."
"I never asked you to leave," you say, and your voice breaks on the last word. "I never wanted anyone but you, you stupid, stubborn-"
"Then why did you pull away?" He's close now, close enough that you have to tilt your head back to look at him. "Why did you stop coming around Kala's? Why did you look at me like I was a stranger?"
"Because I saw you with Elide Mendez!" The words explode out of you. "I saw you two together, saw the way she touched you, and I thought... I thought you were moving on. I thought you wanted someone better, someone with a real job and a real future, not a second rate pickpocket who isn't even that good at thievery."
"Elide?" He looks genuinely confused now. "Elide Mendez from the post?"
"Yes, Elide Mendez from the post, with her perfect hair and her perfect smile and her-"
"She's my cousin," Carrion says flatly. "My cousin who was helping me with my next dealing. My cousin who's married with two kids."
The world tilts sideways.
Married?
"Your cousin," you repeat stupidly.
"My cousin."
You stare at each other. Around you, the bar has gone quiet, or maybe you've just stopped hearing it. All you can hear is your own heartbeat, thundering in your ears, and Carrion's breathing, quick and shallow.
"So you thought I was falling for Jayke," you say slowly, "and I thought you were falling for Elide."
"And we both pulled away," he finishes.
"We're idiots."
You swallow once.
"Complete idiots."
"The biggest idiots in The Third."
"That's saying something," he says, and there's the ghost of a smile on his face now, the first real expression you've seen there in months. "This town is full of idiots."
You laugh, and it's a broken sound, half-sob, half-relief. "We wasted three months..."
"Three months, two weeks, and four days," he says quietly. "Not that I was counting."
Your heart does that complicated thing again.
"Carrion-"
"I missed you," he says, and his voice is raw now, stripped of all pretense. "Every godsdamned day, I missed you. I'd see you around town and want to run to you, but I thought... I truly thought you'd chosen him. I thought you were happier."
"I wasn't happy, not at all." you whisper. "I was miserable. I am miserable. This town is miserable, and my life is miserable without you in it."
"The Third is a shithole," he agrees, "but it's our shithole."
You crack a grin. "That's the most romantic thing anyone's ever said to me."
"I can do better." He reaches out, slowly, giving you time to pull away.
You don't.
His hand cups your face, thumb brushing your cheekbone, and you lean into the touch like a plant toward sunlight.
"I love you," he says. "I love you in this terrible town, in this terrible bar, in this terrible life. I love you when you're angry and when you're sad and when you're so stubborn you can't see what's right in front of you. I love you, and I'm sorry I was too much of a coward to just ask you what was going on. I'm sorry I assumed. I'm sorry I wasted three months we could have spent together."
Tears are running down your face now, hot and fast.
"I love you too," you say. "I love you enough to stay in The Third, even though this town is dying. I love you enough to drink whiskey even though I hate it. I love you enough to-"
He kisses you then, hands cupping your face and tangling in your wind-tangled hair.
It's not gentle. It's three months of longing and anger and frustration and love, all compressed into the meeting of lips and teeth and tongue. You grab his vest, pull him closer, and he makes a sound low in his throat that you feel in your bones. His hand finds your waist, and you're pressed against the bar, and you don't care that people are watching, don't care that you're making a scene in Kala.
All you care about is this: Carrion's mouth on yours, his hands on your body, the way he tastes like whiskey and cigarettes and coming home. The way your heart, which has been clenched tight for three months, finally, finally unfurls.
When you finally pull back, you're both breathing hard.
"We're never doing that again," you say.
"What, making out in Kala?"
You giggle. "Being idiots. Assuming things. Not talking."
"Agreed." He pulls back just enough to look at you, and his eyes are bright. "From now on, we talk. About everything. Even the hard stuff. Especially the hard stuff."
"Even when it's scary?"
"Especially when it's scary."
You nod, and he kisses you again, softer this time. Sweeter. A promise instead of a reclamation.
"Take me home," you whisper against his lips.
"Your place or mine?"
"I don't care. Anywhere but here."
He laughs, and it's the most beautiful sound you've ever heard. "Let's go."
The town is still a shithole, and your life still sucks for the most part. The future is always uncertain. But Carrion's hand is warm in yours, and when you look up at him, he's looking back at you like you're the only thing in The Third worth staying for.
